


we'll all arrive in heaven alive

by allisonmartined



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 16:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes up to sun in his eyes and cotton against his cheek.  <i>Where am I?</i> He mumbles into the fabric.</p><p>
  <i>Hell if I know. Werewolf purgatory?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll all arrive in heaven alive

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be fooled by the whole death thing, this is totally fluff.

He wakes up to sun in his eyes and cotton against his cheek.   _Where am I?_ He mumbles into the fabric.

 _Hell if I know. Werewolf purgatory?_  He shifts his head toward the voice (like bells) and is greeted with a flash of blonde hair.  He's looking up at her and he doesn't -- he can't --

 _Erica?_ He stutters over the word, the name stuck in his throat.  He trembles around the weight of it on his tongue.   _But you're dead,_ his voice sounds wrecked and shocked even to his own ears.  And quieter, he says, _I saw it happen._

 _And I didn't stop it,_ he doesn't say.  

Her eyes are sad as she tilts her head, twists her hands in her hair.   _So are you, babe._

He remembers it in flashes then.  Claws embedded in his abdomen, Derek's pleading eyes, the warmth of pack around him,  flash of hot white pain, and then nothing.

 _Yeah,_ he says sitting up, _I guess I am._

Erica slumps on the bed next to him ( _Erica's bed,_ he notes).   _Yeah,_ she sighs, leaning against his shoulder, her whole body kind of melding into his. _Alphas?_ She asks. _Yeah,_ he says, it all seems so distant now.   _Fuck 'em,_ she says before sliding her hand into his.

  
  


Later, he asks her if she's always been in this room, with the green bed and yellow sheets and the white, crisp walls.  She laughs bawdy, like _before_ , and it makes him smile, makes him _want_.  

 _Before, when I prematurely kicked the bucket, or whatever, I woke up in Stilinski's bedroom.  But he wasn't there, nobody was.  I ended up in Lydia's bedroom once, at least I think it was, and I spent hours just staring at everything, who the fuck knows why.  It's not some sort of ghost shit, we're not haunting my bedroom, I've never seen anybody, only you.  I thinks,_ she pauses, folding her hands tightly together in her lap, _I think it's like where you want, or need, or wish to be._

 _I don't know,_ she says, quieter.

  
  


They spend a lot of time just sitting together, just touching.

 

Later, he'll tell her what happened, since.  And she'll curl into him, ask him invasive questions, and he'll roll his eyes and smile into her skin, whispering secrets into her eyelashes.

 

Later, she'll fuck him slowly into the mattress, riding him until he can't breathe until all his breaths are the syllables of her name until every thrust up into her is a prayer for mercy.  She'll take him apart until he can't take it anymore, his body weak and fragile beneath her's.  

 

Later, he'll count the spots on the ceiling and hope for eternity.

 


End file.
